


The Uruk-Hai: An Unexpected Hero

by SharkSinger



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Free Orcs, Happy Ending, Inspired by Shrek (Movies), Light Angst, M/M, One Big Happy Family, Orc Culture, Orcs, Post-Canon, Post-Lord of the Rings, Post-War, Rescue Missions, Shrek References, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 15:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkSinger/pseuds/SharkSinger
Summary: All of Middle Earth knows what to expect from an orc.Blood, death, and fire.All of Middle Earth knows orcs are dangerous, evil creatures, especially the Uruk-Hai, most intelligent of their race.Bildic knows all of this, and seeks only to be left in peace after the war of the ring has ended. But retiring from a life of violence isn't as easy as it seems, and soon he must become the hero that...Well, maybe not the one Middle Earth needs. But certainly the one that his friends seem to need.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf, Orc(s)/Uruk-hai, Sauron | Mairon & Original Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a long time since Bildic had felt true fire on his skin. He threw his head back and roared, spit flying from his tusks. Looking at his enemy, he roared again, hearing birds leave the nearby trees in a frenzy. He would end it, here and now. None had yet vanquished Bildic, the Uruk-Hai from Mordor, and today would not be that day.

Pulling on the oven mitt more securely, Bildic pulled the muffins carefully from the oven, blowing lightly and fanning the tops. It had been a careless mistake to reach in bare handed, but the yearling in Bildic's yard had woken him up early, banging it's fuzzy antlers against the door and demanding oats. He was starving for something sweet to greet the morning with.

With a contented sigh, he ground some vanilla beans, simmering them lightly with cinnamon and milk. It made a wonderful morning brew, just enough to knock the chill from his bones and ease his mind. It was peaceful here, at the edge of Lothlorien. The elves had left, and few ventured here to scavenge or sightsee.

And thus war or dark lords were the last things on Bildic's mind that morning when he checked the small yearling's leg, tsking lightly when he saw the bandage was unravelling. 

"You need to be cautious, little deer. It won't help if you won't let the skin mend." The rabbits were thumping impatiently in their hut, demanding to roam the yard. "I'm comin', calm down."

Though his frame wasn't as large as it had been during the war, his muscles were still far larger than any humans, and his dark grey skin bulged over the toned biceps and sinewy calves. There was no armor to hide behind, no helmet to mask his face and sharp teeth. But the animals didn't know, didn't see these things. That was why he preferred their gaze to anyone else's. Except Grethel. She was different.

How many years had it been? Five, six? Did it matter? When the ring was destroyed, he had scattered like a leaf in the wind, and never looked back. Bildic had grown tired of fighting in other people's wars a long time ago, and it seemed as good a time as any to become a deserter. It had been days without meat, scorning nature, before he had stumbled upon a worn hut that seemed held together by wishes alone.

Pounding, he had fully intended to break the door down and eat whoever was inside, whoever had lit the fire that glowed through a shabby window. But the door was opened quite willingly by a human woman who was more wrinkle than skin.

"Care to help a blind woman with her stew? It isn't safe out there, you know, with the war going on. I'll gladly share if you'd help me with these potatoes I'm having a spot of trouble with."

She didn't see him. She couldn't, as he noted by the cloudy pale blue of her eyes, the brightest thing about her appearance.

"I've… got nowhere else to go, I suppose."

"You sound terrible. Too much smoke will do that, you know. Oh, I bet it was the fire that took your house!" She pattered about, humming and instructing him how to chop and dice. "That's right. These feel nice and even, so they'll cook nicely, too."

What had caused Bildic to stay his sword and quell his lust for blood? Was it her trust, her joyful smile at realizing she had company? Perhaps it was that no one had ever come face to face with him and not screamed or ran but for his own kind.

Whatever the reason, he was soon happy for it, and as the days went by she showed him how to do things like sift flour and plant gardens in the spring. "You've no idea how much easier it is having a strong young man to help with turning the earth! I wasn't sure I'd be able to this year, on account of my back. Yes, little Grethel's gotten sore these days."

Summer came and went, and he marvelled at the ripening tomato vines and delicate carrot leaves. There was a whole world of flavor to it, and Bildic waited eagerly for when Grethel would show him how a pinch of hot pepper or dash of vinegar could make his senses flood with pleasure.

"Maybe I could build my house close to here, keep you company." He ventured one day, and she clapped with happiness.

"I was hoping you'd say so, Billy!"

And so he spent days toiling over rocks and bits of wood lifted from the abandoned houses of the elves who had once lived in the woods. Supposedly most had left, never to return, which was lucky for him. They wouldn't have taken kindly to seeing an Uruk-Hai hacking at their timber with a sword.

Straightening from the hutch, he wiped soil from his hands, pausing to take another long drink of the sweetly spiced milk. It was perhaps time to tend his cow, Lilian. She'd been wandering the nearby fields when he found her a couple years ago, scared and hungry. He liked to think she enjoyed roaming the meadow near his house, for she always came running when he called, bumping her head against his body eagerly.

"Oi, easy! You're going to knock me down one day bangin' on me like that!" It was a peaceful life, he reflected. Very different from how Bildic could have ever anticipated his days passing after the war. Some days he would visit Grethel, and they would sit on her porch sipping hot tea. "Your voice never will lose that rasp, will it, Billy?"

That's what he would do today, he decided. Grethel loved strawberries, and a bit of extra jam on the muffins would make her happy. It wasn't a long walk to get there, and he would have whistled if not for the tusks.

"Oh, Billy, you're just in time! Say hello to my granddaughter! You know, I bet Billy wouldn't mind a visitor once in a while too, Halga, he lives just down the way!"

_Oh no._

The pale, redheaded woman looked up and almost dropped her cup, recoiling with shock.

"Grandma, he's… he's a monster!"

The words cleaved his heart, making him droop with sadness and regret. It was a mistake thinking he could have a friend, a mistake to try another life, and soon the villagers would be at his door-

"How rude, Halga. Haven't I taught you a person's better than their past? Your grandfather was quite the scoundrel when we met, as I recall." Grethel rose her bent frame to pat him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Billy. I was afraid when I smelled you were an orc, but I knew better than to pry if you were being respectable. If you'd wanted to off me you would have, I figured, and I'd had a long go of it anyway."

They both stared at her, perplexed.

"You knew?" Bildic choked, sniffling messily.

"Of course I knew. You smelled like one, and I could hear those tusks of yours clinking on my cutlery. But I thought it polite not to ask, and you were so eager to do right. I'm no simpleton, Billy! Really, how rude." She sniffed, waving a bony finger in his face.

"Really? You didn't hate me?"

"Really." Grethel smiled warmly, batting a hand towards his face to touch it for the first time, patting his weathered cheek tenderly. "You just wanted to be good, Billy."

She had always known. It was useless to wonder why she'd kept it to herself for so long, or why Grethel never told anyone. Her granddaughter seemed overwhelmed with disbelief, looking back and forth between them wildly.

"I smell strawberry muffins! He's quite good at baking, Halga. Just settle down and try one, for goodness sake."


	2. Chapter 2

The awkwardness and tension was lessened considerably by Grethel's incessant chatter. She talked about the weather, how it was about time to repair the chicken coop, and how nice it was that they'd all finally had a chance to have a sit down together.

"I'm sorry, Grandma, but I just… can't see it. You don't remember what they did to Lars's village, up north? There was nothing left when he came to live with us. My aunt and uncle…" Halga trailed off, and shot daggers at Bildic.

"I didn't have nothing to do with that, did I? I'm a war veteran, I am, not some pillaging lunatic!" He exclaimed indignantly. "I swear, it's like we're all the same to the lot of you humans."

A sharp bang startled them both, and they looked worriedly at Grethel, who had a deep furrow between her bushy grey eyebrows and a fist curled on the tabletop. 

"That's quite enough! You may find yourself needing his help one day, and I hope when you do there won't be any of this!" She barked.

Bildic mused over her words, wondering if a time would ever come when a human would dare ask an orc for help. His sword was probably rusted through by now, or covered in so much dust under the bed that it would be twice the weight to lift.

Halga had cast her eyes down, seemingly ashamed to be scolded like a disobedient child. She was pretty for a human, with grass- green eyes and so many freckles he could barely count them. Bildic had never had the chance to see one up close and alive, with all their flesh intact. It was an unusual feeling, indeed.

Eventually, he made up some excuse about needing to be on his way, thanking Grethel like he always did for the hospitality. The worry that people would come for him gnawed at his gut, making him wonder if perhaps he should start packing. But then who would go to feed Lilian or make sure there was someone to splint bird wings? No one, that's who.

It was a ridiculous set of responsibilities he had justified to himself, but the truth was Bildic didn't want to go. He liked it, alone in his house, with no one the wiser about it. For the first time in his life he had found silence, without the savage screams of his former comrades plaguing his every waking moment. 

So he waited, passing the day working on mending a stubborn tear in his favorite pair of trousers and occasionally waving a branch at the crows who wouldn't let his garden alone. I worked hard getting that pumpkin vine healthy, damnit all.

For a long time before the war ended, he had lost motivation to keep it up. His speeches to the orcs who followed him lacked vigor, and he barely felt compelled to sharpen his axe at night. It had all seemed so pointless. Who would win if Sauron was victorious? It simply wasn't a sustainable system, he'd figured. The Dark Lord's made very little sense, long term, and there was a certain relief knowing a world razed of life would not come to pass.

Days passed uneventfully, the highlight of them being when he'd finished knitting a rather fabulous throw blanket. It had taken time to get it dyed an even shade of purple, a color that he personally thought looked quite fetching on his stony pallor.

Then, one day, he smelled it.

Smoke, black and thick, rolling from across the plains. He would know the stench of singed flesh anywhere. It had to be from Halga's village, and Bildic groaned inwardly. Why now? Right after their fight? It wasn't like he had ever gotten any kind of apology.

Good. He wanted to be good, Bildic reminded himself with a resigned sigh.

Though he had long ago gotten rid of his old armor, there was a steel helmet that fit okay, if he ignored how it scraped against his tusks. The matter of very little in the way of body protection bothered him, but the leather apron he wore for carpentry would have to make do in a pinch like this one.

_Where was that bloody sword?_

His fingers patted under the bed frantically, finding only an old sock and dust. It wasn't there, or in his trunk, or ANYWHERE for that matter. Cursing lowly, he looked around in a last ditch effort before grabbing the first thing that could be used as a club.

The smoke got thicker the further he ran to town, sprinting as fast as his legs could manage. Screams and pleading washed towards his ears, making him grunt in distress. It wasn't as familiar of a sound as it had once been. A wild yell made him look around, seeing a woman being dragged from her house by her hair.

Stealth never had been a specialty of the orcs. All he could do was turn and bellow with anger, bringing his prized rolling pin down into the skull of the bandit. They were human, Bildic noted with relief. It would be easy to drive them off.

Another was coming around his side, rushing with daggers in his hands. Bildic roared, veins in his arms rippling, as he lifted a nearby barrel and slammed it down, thumping furiously on the lid until the man inside fell to his knees. 

Of course, he was so focused on that, he didn't even notice the archer down the street. It was very quickly noticed when one of the arrows embedded itself in his shoulder. Profanity shot from his mouth rapid fire, looking wildly for something he could throw before they managed to pull back on their bow again.

_"I got ya, laddie! Hold tight!"_

Like a wrecking ball, a dwarf plummeted from the balcony of the inn, swinging an axe wildly. It embedded itself in the man's arm with a soft thump. He cheered and kicked away the bow, pausing to watch with amazement as Bildic slammed two heads together with enough force that both bandits tumbled to the ground unconscious. 

"Yer a damn army! The last of 'em are runnin' for it!" The little dwarf laughed, jogging over to clap him heartily on the part of his arm he could reach. Bildic just grunted and turned to leave, setting back towards home. 

"Where are you goin'? We made quite the team there! I've been travelling all over lookin' for a good partner to have an adventure with, you know. Slow down a bit, I'm not made for keeping up with a pace like yours! Ye got some long legs, laddie. How tall was your Pa, I wonder? Did he teach you how to fight like that?"

Once they were enough of a distance away, Bildic ripped off his helmet and started snarling with such ferocity it had been known to make a knight soil himself. The incessant chatter was making his head hurt, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to figure out where he lived. The Uruk-Hai roared, bits of spittle and blood flying towards the dwarf's face.

"No wonder! You're an orc! My Pa used to tell me your lot starts to punch before they start to walk. When I was a wee lad, I'd-" Bildic cut him off with a hand over his mouth. 

"I'm not your friend! Leave it! Don't I make you want to run home, shakin' and disgusted?" Bildic demanded, shaking him by the shoulder.

"No. Was I meant to be scared, then?"

"YES!"

"We fought together! That makes us comrades at arms! Can't be scared of your partner on the field of battle, can ya? I'm Dwulir." He stuck his hand out, smiling brightly at the Uruk-Hai.

With an exasperated sigh, he moved to keep walking. Dwulir trotted beside him, chattering all the while. Bildic could almost tune it out like he would a bird squawking endlessly outside his window. When he got home, he groaned and moved to heft his rolling pin, frowning at the splintered crack than now ran down the length of it. There was a horse tied up outside, and a familiar redhead waiting by it.

"I knew it was you, Billy. The village elders said it was a mountain of a man, with a voice like hellfire." Halga turned up her nose a little, before starting to tremble, rushing forward to embrace him. "You had no reason to help us. Thank you." Pulling away, she wiped at her eyes, holding his hand in hers.

"They want to meet you, show our thanks properly. We are not a rich village, but we can at least do right by the person who saved us."

"Sounds fantastic! A party it shall be, then!" Dwulir exclaimed, and waltzed inside like they'd been living together for years. Clattering and banging rang out from what the orc assumed was his kitchen, and Bildic frantically tried to think of a way out of the situation that didn't involve punting the both of them into Rohan.

"Well, come on inside, both of you! I've found the spirits!"

_I've been saving those, that's my good ale-_

"You know, not a single one of them died? Just got knocked right on out. They all got taken into custody without incident." Halga smiled shyly, patting him on the shoulder. "My grandma may have been right about you, Billy."

Bildic blinked, before nodding with a smile. For the first time, he would be celebrating a battle with friends where he did not kill anyone. Tonight, he would toast to peace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm THRILLED so many people are enjoying Billy! I wasn't all too sure if there was an audience for this sort of story, but I'm having a great time writing him. It's one of my most favorite plot bunnies that I've ever written into fruition! Thank you to everyone who's been so kind, and very soon, adventure awaits our hero!

"Dwulir. I'm not doin' it. They'll soil themselves if they see a dirty, hideous beast come into town to be heralded as their savior." Bildic rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the headache that was starting to edge into his brain.

"Ya gotta think of the silver, laddie! Big picture! If I had a gold coin for every time I passed on the jewel o' opportunity, why…" Dwulir's chatter faded into background noise as Bildic stood, milk pail in hand. He had animals that needed tending, and a Grethel who needed conversation. Perhaps she would talk the dwarf out of it, with her knack for saying the right things.

Lilian was lowing impatiently for him, eager to get her handfuls of feed. "I've soaked these in honey, don't eat it too fast." He chuckled, patting her neck affectionately.

"... and what's more, you can't hide playing farmer forever, you know that adventure calls to ye…"

He grunted furiously. It was prime time for the little dwarf to get a bucket to the face, but he thought better of it. It would only startle the yearling, who was inching closer, interested in the oats he was handing out. It wouldn't do to make the wee thing bolt, risking the leg he'd worked so hard to heal in the process.

Cream tarts would be good, with honey, perhaps. He'd have to cut up some more strawberries from the patch for it, maybe add some basil leaves to give it a savory kick…

"You mean to tell me the best fighter I've seen in years is to spend his time making pie and playing ruddy milkmaid? Come on, Bildic, Middle Earth awaits!"

"If I were a dwarf, perhaps it would, but every town I can think of will have me killed on sight!" Bildic shouted, blood roaring through his veins as he felt the knife cut deep into his finger. Such careless mistakes on the field of baking could make an untimely end to his mission.

Eventually, it was done, and they meandered their way to Grethel's cottage. "Now, be on your best behavior, Dwarf, this lady deserves it. She's the whole reason you're allowed on my couch and not in my belly." He growled, stiffening as he felt the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"Such a fine warrior, and you didn't even hear me sneak up on you!" Grethel guffawed, and Bildic bent down to brush dirt from her patchy cotton skirt.

"I told you not to weed that herb garden, I can do it-"

"Nonsense. I can feel and smell which are good and bad plants, Billy. If it were up to you I'd grow fat and lazy on my porch all day." She hobbled for the door, ushering them inside. "I'll put on some tea, I can smell you've been baking again."

Dwulir climbed onto one of the worn stools with a grunt, taking in the plants that hung from the rafters and a lifetime of knick knacks scattered on every surface. "So you're the Old Lady of the Wood that people in town always talk about, are ya?"

The orc grumbled. He never liked hearing that people called her that.

"Why, yes, that's me! Living in town was a bit hard on me once my sight started going. Too many moving bodies all the time." Grethel smiled, busying herself with the kettle as she ground some mint to make tea.

"I heard what you did for the town, Billy. I'm so proud of you." Bildic hung his head, embarrassed.

"You know, I'll go with you tonight to town, if it makes you feel any better. I won't let them do anything untoward towards you or your character. It would be like you're taking me to a party!" She clapped, suddenly moving for her bedroom to root about in the chest at the foot of her bed.

Her blind eyes stared into the distance as her fingers felt around, looking for a certain texture only she knew. Finally, Grethel whipped out a long silk dress, clearly made by the elves at some point. It had little leaves and silver thread work against pale blue fabric, a stunning contrast to the rest of her worn abode.

"I haven't had a chance to wear this in nearly twenty years, Billy!"

Damn. She looked so excited, holding the hem and twirling a little, almost girlishly giddy at the thought of having a night of festivity in front of her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. Dwulir was cheering, egging him on to say yes with a beard full of tart crumbs.

_"Fine."_

"I knew ya couldn't say no to that, ya grumpy old goat! Now we just need to find ya some nice armor to wear, I'm sure I can tinker something up right quick with the bits the elves left behind…" Dwulir jumped up, using the stool to stand almost at Bildic's shoulder height.

"Just think, laddie, we'll be heroes! Leave it to me!" And with that, he ran off as fast as his little legs could carry him, leaving an anxious Uruk-Hai and delighted old woman in his wake.

\------

The sun was already setting by the time Dwulir came back, red faced and panting with exertion. "It was hard firing up such an old forge, but I've done it, I have, just take a look!"

The armor gleamed like the metal of elves tended to, but the craftsmanship was ostensibly Dwarvish. Hardy, thick plates shifted seamlessly into each other, pounded so smooth you could barely see a scratch or imperfection anywhere. There were only the faintest seams where you could see bits had been smelled together, invisible to the untrained eye.

"How did you manage to pull this off so quickly? And how much is it goin' to be? This is the best armor I've ever had." Bildic has always heard of the craftsmanship of Dwulir's kind, but never beheld it for himself, much less hoped to own it. It made the armor of Sauron's army seem like glorified pig iron in comparison.

"Are ya ribbin' me? You let me live with you scotch free and I make you pay for this? Why, it isn't even as good as my Pa would've done!" The dwarf was trying to be humble, but Bildic could see a blush creep around his ears. 

Grethel emerged from her room, grinning ear to ear. Her dress was on and she had even dabbed lilac oil on her wrists. "Well, you must try it on, Billy, he put a lot of work into it and I'd hate to see you be rude about it."

It fit like a glove, and if he looked it his figure sideways he could almost pretend he was just a very tall, muscular man. Perhaps one of the knights of Rohan or a guard of King Aragorn. If only there was something he could do about his face, but there was no helping it.

"Ya look like a right Prince, Bildic! None of that ugly orc style to be found in my work, that's for sure." Dwulir preened, circling to pull at the straps and check it was all properly secured.

 _Please, let this go smoothly_ , Bildic prayed, and with a great sigh, he offered his arm to Grethel, who needed a hand to guide her.

"It'll be just fine with such a fair maiden to defend my honor, right, Grethel?"

She threw her head back and cackled. "Fair maiden? No one's called me that in decades!"

And so they set off, towards the village that was lit with lanterns of celebration.

\------

One by one, a hush fell over the chattering villagers as they saw the three companions approach. No one seemed sure what to do or say, and even the men froze in place to gape at them. Or rather, at him.

"Grethel, maybe we should-"

"Billy! I told them you'd come! Look at you! And grandma, you're lovely! Even you, Dwulir, you clean up well, don't you?" Halga rushed from the crowd, catching them in her embrace one by one. She leaned in to whisper to Bildic, saying, "I told them who you are, but I don't think they believed me until now."

The hard tension broke like a wave, and he patted Halga's shoulder awkwardly. It was a wonder they hadn't come with torches and pitchforks. Perhaps she had been persuasive in her wording about him.

"Billy! Billy! Mama told us not to, but Laurie and I did it anyway. We made you this! Is it true that orcs live in camps, moving around all the time?" A pair of little girls ran up to him, eyes shining with wonder.

"Eh? I-"

"Shut up, Tanny! We said I'd get to ask questions! We've never seen an orc before, and I was the one who found the picture in Papa's book!" The smaller one squealed, and they turned, sheepish and fidgeting, before holding out a handkerchief, embroidered clumsily with a rose.

"You take it with you, see, and it helps you remember the ladies you're fighting for when you're at war!" Tanny twisted a lock of auburn hair, smiling shyly. He leaned down slowly to look at them, almost twins with long wavy hair and chestnut skin.

The crowd watched with trepidation, some people's hands even twitched for whatever could be used as a weapon. But all he did was accept it, marvelling at how the small bit of linen was barely big enough to cover his palm.

"I didn't expect such a nice welcome from the ladies of town. It looks like you worked very hard on it." He rasped, and handed it to Grethel. "Show me how to pin it on?"

"See, I told you he was nice, Laurie! We've never met anyone who's known one, see, and Papa always says it's rude to assume things. They only look scary because they've got to scare away the spiders, since they live out in the middle of nowhere!" Tanny yelped triumphantly. 

He could practically hear the confusion and relief of the people as he mussed her hair, smiling the biggest he had in a long time. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so horrible.

"Hatred is learned, Billy. They've never known violence until last night. Let's aim to keep it that way for them, hmm? Keep an eye out for trouble for them?" Grethel finished folding the handkerchief against his chest and patted his cheek. 

He nodded, watching as Dwulir worked his way through the crowd, regaling them with stories of Bildic the Brave, altered versions of the war stories he'd tell at night when they munched dinner together.

_Bildic the Brave, huh? Guess I'd better try if I've got people to protect._

"Yeah, I can tell you all about orcs. We've got kind of a different way of going about things, see…" he began, pulling up a seat to start telling the girls all about the side of his culture very few had ever cared to hear.


	4. Chapter 4

Rock tumbled beneath his feet as he surged up the mountainside, blood pumping hard in his ears. He resisted the urge to yell, lest he scare his quarry. Bildic had been tracking them all morning, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Suddenly, a roar rang out over the hills, and the butterfly took off, evading his admiration yet again.

_Who the hell do they think they are, scarin' off all the wildlife like that-_

Furious, Bildic took off again, chasing the source of the noise. It had sounded like another orc, something he wasn't keen on encountering, especially in nothing but his dark linen tunic and cotton trousers. They'll think I look a damn fool, with human clothes on. Even less keen, however, was he on the thought of little Laurie and Tanny walking right up to one of his kind with wide eyes only to be dinner.

Cresting the ridge of the mountain, he took a moment to double over and pant. The meat and cheese from the feast was coming out in his sweat, whittling at his bloated gut little by little. _Why did I have to make a pig out myself?_

That's when he saw them. A tall, lankily muscled orc was moving with ease through a small throng of goblins. Their daggers glinted razor sharp in the light, just barely visible in the flurry of movement. They were a mottled earth color, with a series of piercings going down the bridge of their nose and up their ears, as if they were a glutton for punishment. The cherry on top was the well treated leather, skintight and oiled to perfection. Bildic was warily impressed, hoping he wouldn't have to find a nearby rock and use it as a makeshift weapon.

Just then, a spark flashed right before a roar of flame shot wild into the air, and he scrambled back quickly. The orc had handfuls of black powder that they threw skillfully, igniting it with the steel and quartz blades in a flurry of sparks.

_Saruman invented that, didn't he? Is this an orc who still somehow works for the dark one? Impossible, he was killed-_

"I know you're over there."

Bildic slicked back his hair in his best attempt at freshening up, and put on what he thought was a charming smile, unaware it made him look completely monstrous by baring even more of his sharp teeth than usual.

"So uh, how are ya?"

\------

"One orc is enough for the village, don't ya think? Don't know where they came from, what their motive is, if they're from the war or not…" Dwulir grumbled, thumping a fist on the table.

"Oh, aye, like I invited you here? Besides, I literally killed who knows how many humans in the war! They're out taking down goblins and all you've got is to imply things about them?" Bildic shouted, spit flying from his tusks and onto Dwulir's increasingly ruddy cheeks.

"You're both being rude. Dwulir, never assume things about a person, I thought your friendship with Billy would have taught you better. And Billy, no shouting, we're indoors having a civil conversation. In front of this young lady, nonetheless!" Grethel raised her voice in a terrifying manner, conveying both disappointment and a scolding tone all at once.

"Well, I'd prefer to not be known as either a lady or a lord, thank you. I'm just Dai." They interjected, shuffling their feet a bit as they did. "You know, whichever one - it tends to come and go, y'know? Sometimes I'm nothing. Today's one of those days."

Dwulir squinted for a long moment before nodding. "I get your meaning, there. Sometimes, I wonder: would I look nice in a dress?"

Bildic groaned loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't think you've got the concept, but you've got the spirit, dwarf."

A loud clap from Grethel startled all three of them. "Well, it's settled, then, you seem harmless enough, and it's rude to pry. Would you like some tea, sweetie?"

They all murmured and settled down, sitting cautiously together to break bread as a group. Dai explained their black powder, how a mix of very specific circumstances made a kind of fire that ignited quickly. They exchanged war stories, how Dai had fought a one orc resistance against fringes of goblins for a long time before the war ended, and not knowing what else to do, had kept at it years after it ended.

"You've no idea how hard it is to get a good meal when towns think you're there to kill them." Dai laughed, clinking the edges of their teacup against Dwulir's. They had been appreciative of the scenes, remarking on how flavorful the blueberry was. "I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of blueberries and lemon together. A good combination, I must say."

"Ask Billy, he knows that quite well. Though I'm not sure he ever had the stones to try, to tell you the truth. He preferred to leave well enough alone, for caution's sake." Grethel hummed, patting Bildic on the forearm. He laughed lowly.

As they found out, Dai fancied themself a bit of a minstrel, preferring to take down stories and make them their own. A bit of blood, a bit of love, it was all fair game, if they could convince someone to tell them their story. The group spent a couple of hours by the fireplace, listening to their companion read from the bits of parchment they kept crammed in their bag. It made for a fine way to spend the afternoon, indeed.

"You write beautifully, Dai. It's marvelous. I feel like my eyes can see again." Grethel smiled wistfully. She had been the one asking the most questions and interjecting the most, breaking her own rule of it being rude to interrupt. None of them minded, though. They were equally enraptured.

A frantic knock at the door made them all jump in their seats, Dai reaching for their daggers like it was instinct, which it likely was.

"Grethel- Billy, was it? It's the- the new king. He's taken Halga! His soldiers have, for rumor of consorting with the enemies!" A man Bildic remembered fondly as the town bartender stood at the doorway, panting from exertion. Had he run all the way here?

"Enemies? What enemies? Sauron's dead." Bildic spat, clattering to his feet with a deep grunt.

_Why did I eat so much, I'm sloppy-_

"It's you, Billy. Someone from out of town must have seen you, thought we'd allied with the orcs, and pointed a finger at the one who must have started it." He gasped, looking sorrowful that it was the case.

"Well, then, I'll go to whoever this king is and tell him to shove it, won't I?" He rolled his shoulders, feeling relief as the joints popped.

"You can't just waltz into the court of King Aragorn and free the fair maiden, he's as good a warrior as any knight-"

"Can't I?" Bildic roared, "I've got myself a fair maiden who needs saving from an unfair, and frankly, unwarranted, court trial!"

"Billy." Grethel had seized him by the arm, tears springing to her eyes. "I will never stop you from protecting my family. But I forbid you to die, understand?" Her voice rose to a high pitched tremble. "I still have to teach you how to grow a proper patch of lavender, and bake a good loin, and... and..." she crumpled to her knees and buried her face in his tunic.

"We still have to finish the story, Billy. Not just Dai's. But you'll get a happy ending, understand?"

Bildic knelt down and drew the little old woman into his arms, feeling a tear of his own spring to his eye.

"I'll be back before you know it, Grethel. I promise."

\------

"Look, I know it's here, I just got to find it is all." Bildic grunted as he emptied a cabinet, searching for his sword amongst the years of clutter. Last time he didn't have it, which proved problematic, and he wasn't keen to make that mistake a second time. 

"I think you're looking in the wrong places, champ." Dai volunteered, before wiggling at some spots in the wall. "More likely, you were smart about it, right? You'd have put it somewhere it wouldn't be suspect."

Growling, Bildic straightened, looking about the room before sinking to the floor. "What are we doing, Dwulir? I can't rescue anyone. I can barely make a life out for myself. And we don't even know this one." He nodded towards Dai, who pouted.

"Don't know me? Why, I saved that mountaintop from goblins and didn't kill you. I tell you, it's downright racist King Aragorn is behaving this way. I expected better from him." They leaned in close to shake their head. "I'm with you two. Down with the king, let's get your princess."

They stomped emphatically, and just then, a plank flew up and clocked them right in the face. Dai stumbled back, sputtering indignantly. "What kind of shoddy carpentry-"

"Ya did it, Dai! And look at this beauty!" Dwulir cheered, and hoisted a long blade into the air. It looked just as he had remembered it. Spiked at the handle, razor sharp and made of swirling folded metal.

"Right. Who's ready for a few days of camping on the way? I'll get to baking if one of ya goes hunting." Bildic grinned. It was long past time, perhaps, that he went off on a real adventure.

\------

"You know, I don't know if I like this adventure, Bildic." Dwulir groaned, fidgeting as he tried to find a soft spot of earth to squat on.

"Come on, now. You've got a right alchemist with ya, and a couple of warriors! What a team we make, eh?" Dai had decided to come with them the moment Bildic explained, how Halga was Grethel's granddaughter, and called it… what was the word… racist, that the king would assume so much off of one orc.

Bildic blinked and shook his head in disbelief. In so short a time, a lot had happened, and even if Dai did seem to have good intentions, he wasn't sure why they had decided to come on a life or death quest for a woman they had never met. Some abstract concept like prejudice couldn't be the only motivation, that much he was relatively sure of.

"Alright, lads, and maybe lassie, sorry Dai, don't know a better word but I'll think of one," Dwulir started, "So we're going to give King Aragorn a what for, are we? Do we have a plan?"

Silence. He looked at each member of the the group one by one, growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of response. To tell the truth, Bildic didn't have one, only a vague idea of heroically kicking the doors down to demand her release. And what would that accomplish? His execution?

"Right, so no plan at all. I've got some good ideas, all of you lot. Have ya ever been to a town called the Shire? There's someone there who can give a good bit of insight to Aragorn's type."

Dai perked up at this, leaning in for a better word in the conversation. "That's where that big hero is from, ain't it?"

"Aye! But I'm friendly with the people there. It's a bit of a trek in the wrong direction, but we can get a spot of help there." The dwarf smiled, raising his flask in a gesture of camaraderie.

"So, a bit of story, then we bunk down for the night? I've got one about an elf and a dwarf, both of them lords, who fought together in the war, if you don't mind some love between companions sprinkled in there. I'm thinking of finding out the rest of it, really scribbling down the whole war story. It can last the test of time, even get translated one day years from now, if it's written out to the fullest." Dai offered, waving a handful of papers at them.

The Shire it was, then. Somehow, Bildic didn't think the reception would be as good as Dwulir was hoping for, but humans continued to surprise him. If only he knew what kind of people awaited him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very special thanks to the author bookscorpion for providing inspiration for the character of Dai. If you haven't cracked out their work, they do some incredible fics with Orcs in them that are truly marvelous, as Grethel would say. Check them out if you have a chance!
> 
> And also, thanks to the readers for continuing to love Billy the way he deserves! I hope you're excited to see him kick some serious ass with his trio :)


End file.
